


Locked Out

by amaliastale



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Blow Jobs, Breasts, Bullying, Cunnilingus, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Seduction, Sex, Smut, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-07
Updated: 2013-02-07
Packaged: 2017-11-28 11:49:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/674061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amaliastale/pseuds/amaliastale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In this little story, Amalia is a 7th-year Slytherin potions superstar and Head Girl (and a Mary Sue? Who cares, we’re not going for the Pulitzer Prize here.  We’re just after a quick and effective way to get from Point A to Point Under Snape’s Robes).  She is 18 years old.  She gets locked out of her dormitory in nothing but her skivvies and seeks the aid of a certain sexy Potion's Master.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Locked Out

Amalia sighed and stepped reluctantly towards the heavy wooden door marking the Potions Master’s office.  Calling on her head of house was intimidating even under the most agreeable circumstances; Professor Severus Snape was an austere presence to start, but Amalia’s nerves were always further excited by a rabid crush that she had been nursing throughout all of her seven years at Hogwarts.  She got on with him quite well, considering he was thought to be cold, distant and downright mean by many of her classmates.  She impressed him with her potions skills and they had a positive, even friendly, report, as far as any student could with the reserved Potions’ Master. 

Amalia’s tenure at Hogwarts was that of any normal student; she liked other boys, had a few dates and a couple of boyfriends, but the torch she carried for her favorite professor burned unremittingly in her heart.  It was his body that occupied her fantasies, his name that escaped her lips in the late hours of the night when she found time alone to let her imagination run wild.  Occasionally, when lost in wanton daydreams during Potions Class, he would survey her curiously and she half-wondered if he had some idea of what she was thinking.  Perhaps it was all in her mind, but she thought his conduct was especially cordial toward her on those days.

At present, though, she found herself in a bit of an awkward predicament.  It was the winter holiday and, as Head Girl, it was her responsibility to remain at Hogwarts and aid in managing the dorms for all of the students who would stay at school during the break.  However, as all of the Slytherin girls and most of the Slytherin boys had gone to their posh parents’ homes for Christmas, Amalia was left with little to do.  Unfortunately, there was also little to do for Alec Wedgewood, the male 6th-year Slytherin Prefect who was supervising the boys’ dorms this holiday.  He and the few other boys who were spending the holiday in Slytherin house regularly sought entertainment in teasing Amalia. 

Twenty minutes earlier, Amalia had left her dorm to use the girls’ lavatory before bed.  Planning to be gone only briefly, she wore nothing but a bathrobe, tank top and panties, and she left her wand on the bedside table.  When she returned to the room, she went over to a large wooden armoire to hang up her robe, but upon opening the door was met with a most terrifying sight!  After a moment of panic, she realized that she must be facing a boggart (Dear Reader, of course I cannot divulge my greatest fear, lest the information fall into the wrong hands.  But trust me, it’s quite frightening).   Amalia dropped her robe with a shriek and stumbled backwards, clutching frantically at the table behind her, but her wand was nowhere to be found.  As there is little use in fending off a boggart without a wand, Amalia darted out of the room. 

When she burst into the common room, she was met with the sound of the door slamming behind her and a chorus of adolescent male guffaws from a cluster of waiting Slytherin boys. 

“Nice knickers, Amalia!”

“Oi! Amalia, you scared?”

The group went quiet as the tallest of the boys began to speak.  “’Wasrong, Ams?” said Alec Wedgewood cavalierly.  Just as it was common knowledge among the Slytherins that Amalia fancied Snape, it was also well-known that Alec fancied Amalia and he could have a very nasty side when he didn’t get just exactly what he wanted.  “Something scary chase you out of your room?  Good thing we’ve locked the door then, right?”

Amalia glowered.

Alec continued, “Lost your wand somewhere, too?”  He thrust a hand into his robes and drew out Amalia’s wand.   “Maybe we can work something out.  Let me think...”  He dangled the wand between two fingers as he leered at her. 

The other boys snickered.  Vexed and embarrassed, Amalia muttered, “Just give it to me, please.  Come on!”

“Nah, don’t think so,” Alec grinned and stashed the wand back in his pocket.

“You’re going to get in huge trouble.  Seriously!  Is it worth it?”  Amalia protested shrilly.

“Dunno, maybe.  It’s very funny.  Come on, guys, let’s go.  Ams, guess you’re gonna to have to go ask your boyfriend Snape for help!”  The boys howled with laughter as Amalia scurried out of the common room as quickly as she could manage.

Now she stood in a silly little red camisole-and-panty set in front of her favorite professor’s office door.  Taking a deep breath, Amalia rapped softly.   A rich, deliberate voice responded, “Come in.”

Amalia opened the door a crack and peered inside.  “Um…Professor Snape,” she stammered, “I’m locked out of my room.  I’m sorry to bother you.”

Snape let out an exasperated sigh, “Miss Neverscorn, if you’d like my help, please come into my office and address me properly.”

Amalia edged into the room, her face flushed and her arms folded across her chest, vainly trying to conceal that she wore no bra.  Snape arched one eyebrow and Amalia shifted on her bare feet.  After a long moment, Snape asked, “Are you an aspiring Gryffindor, Miss Neverscorn?”

Confused, Amalia furrowed her brow and shook her head, stuttering, “W-what?  No!”

“Red knickers,” he said with a sardonic smile.  “If you are attempting to seduce me, Miss Neverscorn, may I suggest that you would have better luck with green?  Now, is there a reason you’re dressed like that?  Or should I say, not dressed?” 

He stood up, retrieved a cape from a hook behind the desk and passed it to her.  Amalia held it dumbly, distracted by his mortifying suggestion that she was there on a mission of seduction and wondering how much Snape really knew about her feelings towards him.  Finally registering that he was staring at her expectantly, his face etched with derisive amusement, she quickly wrapped the cape around her shoulders and mumbled, “Thank you.”  She scowled at the ground, “Do you really think I wanted to come in here like this, Professor?”

“Yes,” replied Snape with a hint of smugness, “on some level, I do.”  Amalia glared at him and he smirked back.  “I’m no fool, Miss Neverscorn.   So I hope you have a good, appropriate reason for being here in this,” he paused and his eyes traveled slowly down her body, “…state.”

Hugging the cape to her shoulders nervously, Amalia took a deep breath and noticed, beneath the strong odor of ink and chemicals typical of the Potions Classroom, a musky, masculine undertone that must have belonged to Snape himself.  It was intoxicating.

And so, Amalia relayed the story of the evening’s events, finishing angrily, “…and so I was locked out, in, um… my underwear, in front of them all.  I had to come see you; I didn’t know what else to do.”

Her cheeks were pink and her bottom lip quivered.  Amalia wondered if Snape was going to allow her to wallow in her own humiliation, but he whispered, “Come,” and gingerly pressed his hand on the small of her back to guide her into the corridor, sending thrilled shivers up Amalia’s backbone.

She had expected Snape’s reaction to be scornful, but as they walked together, she detected an uncharacteristic tenderness in his expression; even his eyes, she thought, seemed to betray an element of sadness.  When the pair entered the common room, it was deserted.  “Bullying will not be tolerated.  I will deal with them tomorrow,” Snape assured Amalia sourly as they drew near the girls’ dormitory.

“Thanks.”

Snape nodded.  At the entry to the dorm, he brandished his wand, commanded, “Stay here,” and slipped inside. 

Amalia stared moonily at the doorway.  There was something about the unusual sensitivity in Snape’s demeanor this evening that was intriguing.  He was standing up for her, he was helping her—it was intimate, and, Amalia thought, _fucking sexy_.  After a few minutes, the door opened.  Looming in the doorframe, Snape said, “There.  Now, shall I recover your wand this evening, or can it wait?”

“It can wait, I guess.” 

Snape held the door wide and Amalia entered.  When she reached her bed, she spun around, remembering, “Oh!  Your cape…”

“You may return it to me tomorrow.”

“Thank you.  Thank you for all of your help, Professor.”  She smiled at him.  Amalia did not want the moment to end; she had never felt so close to him before.  So Amalia made a decision.  She sat down on the bed and said, “Stay with me.”

Snape snorted and asked in a familiar, mocking tone, “Really, Miss Neverscorn, are you a child?  As a seventh year, and Head Girl no less, I would expect—“

Amalia cut him off, “No.  Severus—” Snape raised his eyebrows at the use of his first name, “I mean, spend the night with me.”  She let his cape fall from her shoulders and reclined back upon her elbows, legs slightly open and no longer trying to conceal her body from his scrutiny. 

In spite of himself, Snape could not help but behold her figure, could not help but allow his gaze to dwell between her parted thighs, if only for a second or two.   Quickly, he snapped his head back up to look her in the face once again.  “Miss Neverscorn,” he said, slowly and seriously, “This is... highly inappropriate.”

They regarded each other tensely before Snape turned to leave, but Amalia blurted out, “Wait!”

“Amalia…” Snape’s voice had softened, but his manner was still quite serious. 

Amalia rose from the bed and approached him.  Kneeling at his feet, she said, “You’re my favorite professor, you know.”  She winced.  That was not what she had wanted to say at all!  Her mind raced: “That was so dumb!  Why would I say that?  Oh my God, I’m blowing it!  Or, um, not, I guess….”  Frozen in place, Amalia opened her mouth and began to babble, wringing her hands and apologizing profusely, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry Professor, this was stupid, I—…“  She stared at the floor, unable to bring herself to look him at him.

But this sudden change in scenario had given Snape pause.  For all of his stoicism, for all of his practiced self-denial, he was still, at his core, a man—a man with a woman on her knees before him, aflame with young lust and practically begging to give him pleasure.   He reached down and put one long, pale finger to her lips to hush her fretted apologies and then titled her chin upward to study her face.  He gave one small nod and flicked his wand, shutting the door behind him.

Amalia’s heart fluttered and her fingers trembled as she reached up and began to fumble with his robes.  Snape aided the struggling Amalia with his garments, pulling himself free to reveal his large, rigid, uncircumcised cock.  She trailed her fingers down the underside of his erection, from tip to hilt.  She had waited for years and she wanted to enjoy this.  She wanted him to be the one to wait. 

Demurely, Amalia ran her tongue lightly just under the tip of his prick and Snape inhaled sharply.  She explored him with delicate touches of her fingers and quick flits of her tongue.  With one hand, she massaged his balls, while the other daintily caressed his hard shaft.  She bowed her head to gently draw his balls into her warm mouth, then swirled her tongue around the base of his shaft and traced it all the way up to lap playfully at the tip.  Snape entwined his fingers in her hair, pushing himself to her lips with urgency, but Amalia turned coyly and let the throbbing warmth of his penis skim her cheek, streaking it with his arousal.  Snape growled in frustration and hissed, “Now!”

Amalia glanced up and offered one final, coquettish smile before she took him into her mouth.  At first she was reserved, sucking lightly only at the head; then, abruptly, she grabbed ahold of his ass with both hands and drove his entire cock deep into her throat.  Snape cried out and Amalia smile inwardly, knowing she was about make the uptight Potions Master come undone by her own hand.  She bobbed hard and fast, allowing him to slam into the back of her throat until she was to the point of gagging.  She sputtered and stopped to catch her breath, grasping his cock with one hand and stroking furiously, her free hand cradling his balls; when she felt them constrict, she guided him back to her mouth, wrapping her lips around him and pumping mercilessly over the full length of straining erection. 

Snape groaned and, gripping her hair tightly, jerked her head back and withdrew from her mouth, and hot semen spattered across her face.  Amalia opened her lips to catch the last drops and gave him a wicked grin as she brushed some from her cheek and licked her fingers greedily.  He smirked down at her as she wiped his cum from her face until she had swallowed it all up with lascivious gusto.

They regarded each other in silence, punctuated only by their labored breathing.  “Well,” Snape coughed, “Miss Neverscorn, let it never be said that I am not a gentleman.  I believe I owe you one, now.”  He seized her under the arms and threw her unceremoniously onto the bed. 

Taking a seat next to her, he rested a hand on one of her knees, pried her legs apart and traced his wand lightly up and down her inner thigh, each time stopping just short of her panties. 

“You’re using your wand?  After what I just did for you?  That’s cheating!” she said with an incredulous smile.  Amalia was beginning to think that the Potions Master was just as impossible in the bedroom as he was in the classroom.  

In response, Snape pressed the tip of his wand firmly to the crotch of her underwear and, instantly, Amalia’s entire body convulsed with ecstasy.  He maintained steady pressure as Amalia’s hips bucked violently and her fingers raked at the bedspread, her mouth opening and closing in soundless bliss.  She flopped onto the bed and let out a contented sigh.

“Still disapproving of my methods, Miss Neverscorn?” Snape quipped.

She smiled wearily.  “Well, I hope someday you’ll show me what you can do without magic.”

Snape let out a short laugh, “I doubt I require a wand to work magic on your body.”  He frowned, annoyed by his own banter, but Amalia just giggled and lunged at him.  Clambering onto his lap and straddling his groin, she ran her hand up the back of his neck and into his hair, pulling his mouth to hers (Amalia had been dreaming of running her hands through his hair for years and it was every bit as glorious as she’d imagined.  It made her super. fucking. wet).  Grinding brazenly against him, she pushed her tongue deep into his mouth and he received it readily, wrestling back with his own.  They kissed passionately, groping fervidly at one another’s bodies, until Snape broke their embrace and said, “Stand up.”  He placed his hands onto her hips, guiding her off of him.

Reaching out, Snape ran one finger alone the thin crack of skin that showed below the hem of her nightshirt and above the waistband of her knickers; then, he hooked her underpants with his thumbs and yanked down.  Amalia rested her hand on Snape’s shoulder to support herself as she allowed him to peel them from her legs.  He toyed with them idly, balling and stretching the thin fabric in his hands, and said, “Take off your shirt.” 

Amalia obliged.  Once naked, she looked at her professor and smiled shyly, but he was no longer attending to her face; his gaze was fixed upon her chest.  He reached out and ran his fingertips tenderly over the supple curves, and tossing her panties to the side, he held back no longer.  He grabbed her breasts, weighing them in his hands, kneading them roughly, palming her stiff nipples.  Pushing one breast up to meet his lips, he took her nipple into his mouth, alternating between sucking and circling it with his tongue.  He moved to her other breast, licking and biting her creamy skin, plucking at her nipple with his fingers and his teeth.  Finally, he looked up at her and said, “It seems you’ve changed my mind, Miss Neverscorn.  I will stay, for now.”

She grinned.  “Just call me Amalia, Severus.”

“Amalia…” his resonant voice lingered on every syllable, “I would prefer that you continue to call me Professor Snape.  And don’t expect any romance.”  He stood abruptly and spun her around, pushing her down until her shoulders and left cheek rested on the bed but her backside remained high in the air, presented wholly to him.  He traced one finger over the curve of her spine, leaving her in that position as he unhurriedly began to disrobe.

 She twisted around so she could watch him strip.  Layer by layer, his body was exposed to her: thin and angular, the pale skin of his hollow chest was contrasted by a patch of dark hair, which ran into a fine line along his abdomen before growing thick and untamed between his legs.

Catching Amalia’s eye, Snape smirked and, without warning, thrust two fingers deep into her vagina.  His fingers glided easily as he pumped in and out, extracting them on occasion to manipulate her distended clit, making it slippery with her own wetness.  He moved forward and she felt his erection graze her thigh, but he paused.  “You’re not a virgin, are you?” he asked in a tone of disdain, perhaps also tinged, Amalia thought, with a bit of trepidation.

“I couldn’t wait for you forever, Professor,” she lifted her head to smile at him, “I would have, though, if I’d known...”

 “This is… indecent enough as it stands, I think.” He placed his hands onto her hips and she could feel the warm tip of his erection rubbing against her clitoris and probing lightly at her vagina, until Amalia grew frustrated and begged, “Quit teasing me, please!”

“I believe it was you who was teasing me a short time ago.”

“I made you wait two minutes.  I’ve been waiting years!”

“I won’t make you wait any longer, then,” and with one swift thrust, he plunged his entire cock deep inside of her.  Amalia let out a startled squeal.  The length and girth of him stretched her to the brim, bigger than any she’d known before, but she was so wet for him that her body put up no resistance.  She pushed back into him as he pumped in and out of her with increasing speed.  Amalia relished the way his balls slapped her naked thighs with each thrust, the way his breathing grew heavier, the way he reached beneath her and groped frenziedly at her breasts.  She rode against him until she dripped with sweat and her breathing came in ragged gulps, but before either of them had reached climax, she halted and murmured, “Wait…”

Snape hesitated. “What’s wrong?” he asked with a trace of concern.

“Nothing.  I just have to look at you.” She wiggled out of his grasp and crawled up onto her knees, facing him. 

She pulled him onto the bed on top of her, kissing him deeply.  Snape repositioned himself and entered her anew, this time far more gently than before.  His eyes were closed as he thrust in and out and Amalia watched him above her, a vision straight from her fantasies, his forehead glistening with perspiration and strands of lank black hair plastered to his cheeks.  Amalia reached up and swept the hair out of his face.  He opened his eyes and she smiled at him, then, without breaking eye contact, wrapped her legs around his waist and squeezed, clenching at his manhood and and making him gasp.  She rocked her hips in time with his strokes and clutched at his ass, pulling him into of her as deep as she possibly could.  “Professor,” she moaned desperately, “oh my God, Professor.  Fuck me harder!”

Snape pushed himself away, eliciting a disappointed cry from Amalia, and sank to his knees on the floor between her legs.  He rubbed his large nose against her swollen clitoris as his tongue explored her slick entrance.  He licked up along her slit, kissed and nibbled at her lips, tugging with his teeth, before latching onto her clit and sucking hard as he shoved two, and then three, fingers inside of her.  Amalia’s hands tangled with his hair as he painted her most sensitive places with his tongue until she lost control, shrieking “Severus!,” her entire body shuddering with pleasure.

As Amalia rode the wave of her orgasm, Snape rose and stabbed back into her twitching cunt, pounding with wild abandon.  He grunted and Amalia felt his hot seed explode within her.  Snape collapsed and lay still on top of her, panting for air.  Amalia ran her fingers across his back as, together, they quietly caught their breath.  Snape rolled off of her onto the bed and asked, “Was it everything you imagined, Miss Neverscorn?”

“Yes,” she rasped wearily.

He smirked.  Amalia shut her eyes and bathed in the rapture of the moment, but only a short time passed before Snape stood up began to gather his clothing. Opening her eyes, Amalia watched him dress, mesmerized; it was beautiful, so elegant, his fingers dancing deftly over his many-buttoned garments until his pale body was once again concealed in black from head to toe.

                When he was fully clothed, Amalia sighed with disappointment, “You have to leave…”

Snape nodded.  “I cannot stay.  What we did was… irresponsible. “

“Yeah,” Amalia pouted, then asked thoughtfully, “But will it happen again?”

“I don’t know.  Perhaps once was foolish enough.”

 “I hope it does, though.”

“I suppose I do, too.  It was… fun, Amalia,” and his mouth twisted into a small, crooked half-smile that for once held no suggestion of sarcasm.


End file.
